little games
by traversing
Summary: Heroes of Olympus AU, where instead of Percy being missing from his bed, Annabeth is.


**A/N: Will be multi-part, and will span across the series. Thank you to my lovely beta, Natalie (olymphus on Tumblr). Sorry for any letters that go missing all of the sudden, it tends to do that here. **

* * *

part one.

It's amazing how easy this is.

People are always talking about how hard it is for best friends to transition to a solid romantic relationship, especially when they're ones to butt heads often, and it's inevitable for something to happen–someone slowly loses interest, someone makes a gods awful decision, and someone gets their heart completely shattered.

Percy doesn't quite understand this. Instead of the increased time spent together being the building blocks for their demise–because there's honestly just a limit on the amount of time you can spend with some people, no matter how much you lo-_like_ them–it's allowed their connection to develop even more than it has over the last few years.

Sure, they bicker on occasion–who are they if they aren't stubborn idiots? –but each fight will invariably come to a close with the press of lips onto one of their foreheads–sometimes moving to the dark locks or more often than not soft ringlets of flaxen–in a solemn apology. Then, it's gone.

It's easier to be together when they forgive _and _forget. That's something Annabeth has trouble with, and it takes a great deal of restraintto keep from digging up all of his mistakes from the past in her effort to be right (she's always right). Still, they haven't had a major blow-up; no days spent in sharp-edged silence, no moments filled to the brim with fear that _maybe _that was the last straw and dear gods, have they finally come to that tumultuous point in their relationship where they find being _near _each other is a struggle?

And it's nice.

Especially now, in the strawberry fields, as they bury themselves in the lush greenery.

They're a mess of limbs–his head falls onto her lap but she's stretched out, threading her fingers through his hair and one of her legs is probably–somehow–underneath his torso. It'll be stiff later.

This has become pretty common for the pair–when they come back to camp, whether it be a couple days for the weekend or for a holiday, they've taken to heading out back here, where their only other companions are the ladybugs who find resting spots, tickling their arms or noses. They can think and talk, and not be subject to the giggles and eye rolls that follow them nearly everywhere–which have become more frequent after a certain incident in his cabin, with a really inconsiderate daughter of Apollo, who must've not learned manners from her mortal parent.

Percy feels the pads of her fingertips against his temple, massaging the skin there to the point where he feels like passing out. Since this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing's begun, he's also taken to sleeping with his cheek laying on her stomach, because she makes a _seriously _good pillow, both soft and hard in all the right places–though, in all honesty, she definitely has better abs than him.

If he were to open his eyes right now, he'd see a gorgeous blue expanse, devoid of any storms or snow flurries that normally pepper the Manhattan sky. Underneath him–and above him, he supposes–Annabeth hums, content.

Over the next three days, they divulge more of their time to this simple activity, bundled up a little more than usual due to the colder climate, and all the while they're talking–sometimes about plans for the future (she's certain on her path in life, but he has almost no idea, aside from the fact that it _has _to include her), and more recently about what they're doing for Christmas.

"You _have_ to spend the night!"

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. "And your mother?"

"She'd be glad to have you." He's looking up at her, those gods damn big eyes that normally mean he'll get what he wants no matter what she says. But she's not budging.

"I'm so not encroaching on your Christmas Eve tradition." The tradition being that the mother and son duo bake azure treats–typically little sugar Santa's that look like they've had just a bit too much frosting–and watch holiday specials on their television. Even Paul's just been invited to the event, and they've been married nearly a year.

"But what's the point if I won't have you there?" His lips form a wide smile. "You could be all cuddled up in the big quilt we have, with hot cocoa warming our mere _souls._"

Annabeth laughs. "A drink can't do that."

"Have you had it like my mom makes it?" Percy sighs, a pleading look on his face. He takes her hands in his. "It'd be the best Christmas present ever."

Grinning cheekily, she replies, "So I won't have to go shopping for your gift, then?"

"If that gets you to come."

It takes a lot of convincing–no, not like that–but she finally concedes, especially after he brings up the point that his mother would be really disappointed–she likes Sally, so she'll come.

He makes some sort of wounded remark about how she'll be there for his _mother _of all people but not for him, so obviously she isn't going to get an awesome stocking (she gets one every year when she comes by in the morning, that definitely won't halt).

He presses his lips to hers, and before anything can go further, he tastes strawberries on her tongue and he can't resist–so he pulls away and leans down, plucking the sweet fruit and taking a ginormous _chomp, _and maybe it wasn't a good idea to not look at it before he eats it, because then he's shrieking about a bug and _gods it tastes horrible, Annabeth get it off!_

It's impossible to stop her laughter, even as she pulls out a crumpled up, used napkin from her denim pockets and gives it to him, and together they revel in this simple joy–after Percy gets the tang out of his mouth.

She teases that she won't kiss him until he brushes his teeth, like, a billion times and maybe that doesn't work out so well.

;;

When Percy wakes up in the morning, in his unreasonably cold cabin, the blankets strewn about the bed, he's confused. Wasn't there a curtain of blond curls covering his face, and a warm body cradled against his front before he fell asleep last night? He's pretty sure of that, considering the curve of the mattress fits along her curves and his sheets smell of lemon–she still uses the same shampoo.

He figures she went back to her cabin at dawn, so she's not caught sneaking out of his for breakfast, and wonders when she'll be back. She's normally back by now.

But it's wholly possible she's just held up with her siblings–she is a senior counselor, after all (he is too, but he's basically just controlling himself, which he can't even do). It's even more likely she's stuck talking to Chiron, who's certainly noticed the–_ahem_–slumber parties; he just hasn't said anything until now.

The desire to go by her cabin straight away is most definitely there, but Annabeth'll probably roll her eyes and refuse to kiss him until his mouth has been thoroughly scrubbed down with this mint toothpaste that's supposed to conquer even the grossest of morning breath. A change of clothes isn't a crazy idea either.

Half an hour later–yes, it does take him that long to do, well, anything–Percy's down at the pavilion, and no he will not admit it, but there might just be a skip in his step because this is going to be the _best _vacation ever.

The smile on his face definitely lessens, though, when the Athena's kids file in like normal, led by Malcolm, her second-in-command. Both of their eyes widen at nearly the same time, and in his rush to ask where she is, Percy might've knocked over his drink and it's possible that's spilled all over his table in one sticky mess that someone's going to have to clean up.

"Have you seen Annabeth?" He asks, just as the younger boy opens his mouth.

Malcolm shakes his head no, saying that they all thought she was with him–and maybe he's blushing, just a little.

Percy's eyebrows scrunch together though, in that way that she'd once told him looked really cute. There isn't an inch of him that isn't worried.

He spends the next three hours scouring the campgrounds, along with the rest of the half bloods–Annabeth's well liked among them, and basically their leader (they can say that it's him all they want, but she's always the one who solves the problem). Every square foot of the place is searched, yet they come up empty-handed.

His first instinct is to ask her what to do–of course; she's not here–with the second being to call his mom. A quick jaunt to her cabin, and a look about her trunk reveals that her dagger is gone–stolen, or was it brought with her? –and that her cell phone is still in its place, next to a pile of large textbooks.

After talking to his mom about this whole thing, she reassures him that it's all going to be fine and to take a breather; she'd also talk to the private school she was attending to, in hopes of discovering her back there.

With a quick goodbye, Percy's then calling her dad–a nice man who doesn't always make the best decisions, especially concerning his daughter, but he cares all the same–in the hope that she somehow, for some reason, went back to California for an impromptu visit. He's made a point to never give up hope.

And gods forbid, he's not going to do it now.

;;

Leo's had a long day. It isn't even three thirty yet and he's already been scared so much he has to worry about his cheeks flaming–literally. Normally he can just laugh it off, or replying with some snarky comment that would get him beat up if he wasn't so funny to be around.

If he made a jest now, he'd probably get thrown down the side of the canyon again, because the way this guy's looking at them is enough to make even those weird storm things to bolt off.

A freaking_ sword_, fully extended and definitely lethal, is in his hands, and it's pointed at them. Wait, not them. He's turning around now, his eyes searching desperately for something.

"Butch!" He calls, his voice strangled. "Have you seen him?"

A kid who looks to be eighteen or nineteen, with a bald head and some sort of tattoo on his arm, points at Jason, who's standing with a sort of dumbstruck look on his face, then at his shoe–or, what once was his shoe. Now there's just a bunch of smoke and it's likely that his foot is the thing that's black.

The guy's tall frame, which Leo supposes is considered lean but definitely capable of ripping all of their heads off without breaking a sweat–because that's _exactly _what it looks like he wants to do–surges forward to the blond teen, who barely has enough time to gather what's happening before the bronze blade is pressed against his neck. His arm is wrapped around Jason's torso from behind, so as to hold him in the position while he slits his throat.

_"Where did you take her?"_

He asks this multiple times, and there's such a pure anger in his voice Leo wants to crawl in one of the crevices on the side of the canyon. The other dressed in armor–Butch, he's named–tries to calm him down, reminding him that this kid probably doesn't have an idea.

It doesn't work, until suddenly he relents, for some reason dropping his sword on the ground and storming off to this huge, black stallion–_with wings?_

Leo's decided he just doesn't want to process any of this anymore.

His face is probably still slack when Piper speaks up.

"What was that?"

Solemnity crosses his face when Butch says, "His girlfriend, Annabeth, is missing."

;;

They end up all climbing in to this huge, silver chariot pulled by what she assumes are pegasi–he's obviously never seen one in real life before now– and Leo's _dying _to make some crack about the guy's rainbow inked skin. He feels Piper's elbow at the point just between two of his ribs when he's about to open his mouth.

"So what happened?" She asks, brushing a dark lock of hair behind her ear as she's squished between him and the guy with _huge _biceps.

Butch sighs. "He woke up a few days ago at camp, and she was just gone."

"She could've run away." Leo finds himself suggesting–when things get complicated, it's what he's taken to doing.

The guy just shakes his head, saying something about how she isn't the kind of person to do that anymore.

_Anymore. _It's branded across his thoughts now.

;;

Piper's life has definitely been flipped upside down. Just this morning, her life was normal–for the most part, considering the circumstances–nice, even. And now she's stuck at some camp–apparently she's a _demigod_ now–that's probably just as bad as Wilderness Survival School with her boyfriend being an amnesiac and it's not how she pictured the day to go.

That all being said, she feels bad for the guy–she'd asked their driver what his name was, and it's _Percy_–because she kind of understands what his emotions are right now. But then again, it's unlike her to attack a group of youths while looking for her significant other, but maybe they've just got two different personalities, his being on the more aggressive side.

But for reasons unknown to her, he's offered to give her a tour of camp, and she doesn't have any excuse other than _I'm totally scared of this kid _to try and barter for a different guide.

So far, he's been pretty stoic, almost mechanically pointing out each of its features–a climbing wall with lava at the top for extra incentive, a training arena, the woods where they battle it out in Capture-the-Flag–something she assumes is pretty damn serious around here–and even telling of each of the cabins.

Resting on his collarbones, loose around his neck, is a necklace consisting of a worn leather cord and some colorful clay beads. She can't make out what's on them, so she asks what they are.

Percy scratches behind his ear, like he doesn't really want to talk, but then decides that he should anyway. His fingers grip the first–a darkly painted one, with a sea green trident prominently displayed, which nearly is a duplicate of his irises.

He explains that it was from his first year here, at twelve years old, when he'd gone on a quest to find the Master bolt, a mighty weapon wielded by Zeus himself, and also to save his mother, who was _way _more important than some rod of electricity. Then, he's diving into a tale about how the three of them–himself, Annabeth, and a satyr named Grover–had done so, including ludicrous anecdotes concerning malfunctioning cupid waterpark rides, and mattresses, and even a talking poodle.

"And then–" he laughs, rocking on the balls of his feet. "–we had to tell the guy, Charon, that we all drowned in a ba–" Percy cuts himself off, eyes quickly becoming dark.

Piper furrows her eyebrows. "And then what happened?"

"I _can't_," he says, expression downcast. "I can't just act like everything's okay, because everything's so _not _okay and I just need to find her, because she's always found me and it's just–"

Without another word, he sprints down the slow slope of the hill, leaving Piper to trail after. She follows quietly, a great number of steps behind him, because it's obvious he wants space, distance from everyone else.

In his absence, Piper finds herself wandering throughout the grounds, coming across a small, jewel-toned lake that she assumed were for canoeing–like any other summer camp. Right now, all she wants is to pretend that this is that–just some fun-filled vacation, free from worries and brimmed with s'mores and quality time in the wilderness.

She can't do that, because even though she's definitely trying not to, it's impossible to let the wide-eyed girls, wrapped in seaweed with murky skin tones, go unnoticed when they're hiding in the gentle waves that lap at her ankles.

"Naiads," a voice behind her says. When Piper turns to see the newcomer, it's merely a young girl–maybe twelve, thirteen?–with braces and dirty blond hair. She's wearing the same orange shirt that the rest of the campers are. "Water spirits."

Piper smiles, nodding. She remembers something about them when she was researching Greek mythology with her father, for that role in the movie she can't remember anything about for the moment.

In response to her friendly silence, the girl holds out a hand. "Lacy. And you're Piper?"

"Yeah," she says, taking the proffered gesture. "Can I borrow a phone?"

Lacy furrows her eyebrows. "We don't really have those. They apparently draw monsters to us and then it's more likely that we die. Annabeth normally has one though, you could ask her brother."

"Annabeth's the one who's missing, right?" At her nod, Piper continues. "What happened?"

The blond frowns. "We don't really know–the Aphrodite cabin isn't normally updated on this kind of stuff. But they're all into it, of course, the 'romance of the millenia.' She got kidnapped in the middle of the night, though. I don't know anything else, other than he's going crazy."

"Percy?"

"Yeah," Lacy says, then goes on. "I heard that she got kidnapped before they were dating, a couple years back, and that he basically lost his marbles. I hope they find her soon."

Piper bites her bottom lip, already gnawed profoundly at from the stress, and agrees quietly, but something itches at her, telling her that it won't happen.

;;

"This is bullsh–"

"Percy!"

It's Connor Stoll, of all people, who cuts his angry tirade off. He's been paying more attention to the white, plastic ball rolling around on a light yellow paddle than the meeting itself, so his snap gains quite the surprise. "We'll find her, Percy."

"After they leave, we're sending all of our people–"

The dark haired boy shakes his head, eyes flaring. "We need to go _now. _Every minute we waste here is another minute that we could be using to find her."

"Percy," Chiron's trying to calm him down. "We won't have the supplies ready before morning. You'd have to return almost immediately."

"Send just me then."

"Percy."

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**A/N: That concludes part one. If you haven't caught on yet, the only key difference is that Annabeth is kidnapped and has her memory wiped clean, instead of Percy. All other events (so far) are the same. The next part will be focusing on the impact of this on the characters left at Camp Half Blood, as well as her mortal family.**


End file.
